


I’ve seen enough, he says, I know exactly what I want

by bowyer



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24542965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowyer/pseuds/bowyer
Summary: It’s not been thirty-six years, but it’s not been fewer than thirty. And Rhett’s been so careful. But somewhere along the line – he had girlfriends, got married, had kids – he’d lost the urgency to pretend, the need to hide.
Relationships: Jessie McLaughlin/Rhett McLaughlin, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 18
Kudos: 76





	I’ve seen enough, he says, I know exactly what I want

Rhett’s dad has always liked Link.

Well, maybe not _always_ , because Rhett can’t remember everything that far back, but long enough that Link feels like family. It meant that Link had a father figure, or at least someone to talk to, when growing up it was just him and Momma Sue, and Charles was far away and incommunicado.

Rhett loves his dad for a lot of reasons, but Link is one of them. Link was always a little more delicate, felt too much, clung to what he liked – the soft sort of boy that Rhett didn’t think his dad would have ever liked. But Rhett’s dad took it in his stride. Way back, he’d nearly belted one of his drinking buddies when he caught him making fun of Link, and Rhett had never seen that friend around again.

“You ok, honey?” Jessie’s touch on his hip brings him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?” He takes the beer she offers. “Yeah, just … thinking.”

Across the garden, his dad is talking – no, _debating_ – with Link over the finer aspects of burger grilling. His face is intense and focused, like he’s delivering a lecture, while Link is only half-listening, and grinning too much to be taking anything in (Rhett knows that face). At their feet, Jade and Barbara linger for scraps.

Jessie rests her head briefly on his forearm, before going to referee whatever complicated game Shep and Lando have invented. Rhett continues watching his dad and Link – his dad throws up his hands, laughing and shaking his head, and heads over to Rhett, leaving the grill in Link’s capable (?) hands.

“That boy,” his dad declares as he gets closer, “is as mad as a box of frogs. I’m worried you two share a company.”

“Don’t worry, we don’t let him touch the sharp things.”

His dad chuckles and takes a long swig of his beer. “You’re good for each other.”

“He has his moments,” Rhett shrugs. They both watch Link for a little while longer in relative silence. Unaware of his audience, Link sneaks bits of burger to the dogs still lounging at his feet.

“So,” his dad says, after a beat. “Did you leave the Church for him?”

Rhett’s heart sinks. “We’re really doing this _now_?”

“Not been able to get you to yourself any other time.”

Great.

It’s like there are clouds, suddenly, in the LA sky; Rhett feels way too cold for early summer. And it’s not that Rhett doesn’t _like_ talking about it, it’s just – well. His family had two missionary boys, Rhett was ‘saved’ as a 6 year old and Cole’s a freaking _pastor_. Rhett likes debate and discussion, sure, but not on a family barbecue day.

“I don’t want to fight,” he says eventually. “But no. Not because of him. I did my research, Dad, and I just – couldn’t, anymore.” He feels so small, all of a sudden. His dad’s the cleverest man he knows – how can Rhett even pretend to know more about this than he does?

“I’m not gonna fight with you, son.” His dad has never been particularly emotional or affectionate, so it’s strange to hear a softer tone in his voice. “I’m just trying to sort this all out in my head.”

“I talked things over with Link. But he’s been struggling for a long time. Probably longer than me, he was just quiet about it.”

“Didn’t realise that boy could be quiet about _anything_ , I’m impressed.”

Rhett tries to smile, but it knots up in his chest. His dad is building up to something, but he can’t tell what.

“I’m not saying that he pressured you into anything – I _know_ you, don’t forget that. Just trying to figure it all out.”

“Then what _are_ you saying, Dad?”

His dad is silent for a moment. Over the other side of the garden, Link is divvying out burgers to their hungry horde of kids, Jade tucked under one arm. Jessie has settled herself down next to Christy, with Barbara snuggled in between and Rhett’s mom across from them, deep in conversation.

It was almost as important for Rhett’s parents to like Christy as it was for Sue and Charles. He remembers that. And he remembers Christy pulling Jessie to one side, when their double dates became more frequent and obviously leading to something to discuss – well, Jessie never told him the specifics. He just knows that it was about him and Link, and that it had explained some things to her. They’re basically family; that’s the point.

“Rhett,” his dad says, weirdly hesitant. “Did you leave the Church _for_ Link?”

And it clicks. This isn’t about church at all. And Rhett wishes it was.

He stops watching Link. The damage has been done.

It’s not been thirty-six years, but it’s not been fewer than thirty. And Rhett’s been _so_ careful. But somewhere along the line – he had girlfriends, got married, had kids – he’d lost the urgency to pretend, the need to hide.

“Not … not consciously.”

His dad’s face is perfectly calm – Rhett can’t decide whether that’s a comfort or not. “Does Jessie know?”

“ _I_ barely know, Dad,” Rhett snorts, digging his fingers into the edge of his eye socket, because he’ll be damned if he cries at a family cookout. “She’s the love of my life, though. You don’t need to worry on that front.”

“Stop cringing, boy, I’m not going to hit you.”

Rhett didn’t even realise he’d been doing it. But he does as he’s told, taking long, slow breaths as he does so.

“Does _Link_ know?”

“Gosh, I hope not.”

“Maybe you should give him more credit,” says the man who’d previously been worrying about Link owning a company.

Rhett laughs, and it comes out wetter than he wanted it to.

It’s like half of their conversation is in the silences between their words, full of things that good Southern men don’t say and good Southern men don’t feel. It’s better this way – Rhett’s never been good at saying things out loud. He prefers the solace of a screen.

“Guess a little bit more California got into me than I realised,” he attempts to joke.

His dad smiles, but it’s more pity than amusement. “I may not be as wise as your West Coast pals, but even _I_ know that this ain’t something you just develop. Not like that, anyway.”

Rhett turns and looks at him. _Really_ looks at him. There’s no fire and brimstone in his eyes, no thunderstorm, no _wait til you get home, boy_. There’s just an old man at a cookout, talking to his son. There’s no anger there. This isn’t where he thought they would be. They’ve been talking in different languages, maybe.

“You could do worse, Rhett,” his dad says sagely, “It’s not as if it would change much.”

“Gosh.” It’s a good space-filler, as Rhett figures out how on _earth_ he’s supposed to respond to this. “I – I guess you’re right.”

“‘Course I am,” his dad gives him a smug look, and the world continues on its new axis, the same as it wasn’t before. “Now come on. I want to see if you boys remember how to grill the _right_ way.”

***

“I’m telling you, man.” Link is still laughing, halfway out the door. Jessie and Christy have already hugged goodbye, the kids have done varying farewell greetings that range from shoulder slapping (Lincoln and Locke) to attempted fistbumps (Shep and Lando) to mutters of ‘bye’ whilst staring at someone’s left knee (Shep’s crush on Lily is getting out of hand). But Link still hasn’t gone, still halfway through a conversation about something he’d seen on the internet.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. I’ll look it up, I promise.” (He won’t.)

“No you won’t!” Between them they’ve shared two and a half bottles of wine (Jessie put in a valiant effort for the last half; Christy is DD) and Rhett can feel it loosening his shoulders and relaxing his back.

Looking at Link, still hanging onto the door frame with bright eyes and a wide mouth, Rhett can safely say that it’s gone straight to his friend’s head. “You _never_ –”

“Da – _ad_!” Rhett hears Lando whine from the other side of the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” Link yells over his shoulder. “Gosh, you know the pecking order in _this_ –”

“If you don’t stop, Christy’s gonna make you walk home,” Rhett cuts across, leaning forward to grab Link in a hug while Christy yells “ _Don’t tempt me!_ ”.

Link huffs a laugh into his shoulder, winding his arms around Rhett’s to squeeze for a moment. His wrecked almost-quiff is tall enough to tickle at Rhett’s nose.

“Your beard’s scratchy, man. Better use some beard oil!” Link’s still giggling as he pulls away – he’s not stepped in ten, maybe fifteen, minutes. “See you Monday! Bright and early!” He waves as Christy tugs him down the path to the car.

“Link’s gonna feel _that_ in the morning,” Locke says, heading back to the kitchen to help his mom clean up.

“Not that _you_ know anything about that.” Rhett raises an eyebrow.

“Read it in a book!”

Jessie rolls her eyes and leans up to gently peck Rhett’s lips. “Like _you_ can cast any stones there, babe.”

She has a point.

“I’ll come help – just give me a minute, yeah?” He gestures to the garden.

“Sure. All ok?” Because she knows him.

He nods and pats her on the shoulder. On the way out, he grabs a bottle of whisky and a tumbler – it’s the right night for a nightcap.

His back’s gonna make him regret it in the morning, but he settles down on the steps of the decking and spreads his legs out. It’s a gorgeous night, just the right blend of warmth and clear sky. The whisky is smooth and smoky-tasting.

Rhett’s pretty happy.

He sips his whisky and lets the night wash over him, listening to the faint _clank_ of the dishwashing and the little _clicks_ of Barbara’s feet as she chases Jessie for food.

“Dad?”

“What’s up, Shep?” he asks, not turning around.

“Can I sit?” Shepherd, more so than any of the McLaughlins, keenly values his own space, which means he’s bizarrely observant of other people’s for an 11 year old.

“Sure, bud. Take a pew.” He pats the deck next to him. “What’s on your mind?”

Shepherd takes a moment to sort his thoughts out, picking at his nails, before bulldozing right in. “Why do you and Link hug? You don’t do it with your other friends, and Locke doesn’t do it and I don’t do it.”

“Huh. Good question.”

(It’s not really the sort of situation that Rhett can give a bullshit answer to, but he’s also too drunk to come up with one, so Shep’s gonna have whisky-addled truth and _like_ it.)

“We didn’t used to, not when we were your age, or Locke’s. Where we grew up, people would have started … implying things, if they saw two guys hugging.”

“What, that you were gay?” Shep’s a sharp boy, got his mom’s brains. “Why was _that_ a big deal?”

“It, uh … wasn’t a good thing to be, where we grew up. People got beat up for it. And Link and I didn’t want anyone to think we were, because we’d been told it was bad. Ergo, no hugging.”

The boy wrinkles his nose. “What’s _ergo_?”

“Therefore. So.”

“Then say that instead.”

Rhett bites back a grin. “ _So_ , no hugging.”

“So why now? Should I be hugging _my_ friends?”

“You hug each other if you want to and they want to. No other rules on that.” He takes a slug of his whisky as he tries to figure out what _exactly_ is the answer to Shepherd’s question. He’s never really thought about it before. “I guess … well, we don’t care anymore, if anyone thinks we’re gay, because it doesn’t matter and it’s not a bad thing, as you know.” He leaves out the _and your old man maybe likes guys a bit more than you’d expect_ , because that’s not the point. “And he’s my best friend, and we _want_ to, so it just makes sense. And maybe a bit because we were told not to when we were younger, because boys didn’t do that. If girls can do it, why not boys? Boys have feelings too, and boys love their friends just as much as girls.” Rhett restrains himself from going on the whole toxic masculinity rant. Save it for a day when he’s not been mildly intoxicated since 7 p.m.

“So it’s kinda like … a punk thing? Hugging?”

“Yeah, son,” he laughs. “It’s a punk thing.”

There’s the _shtick_ of the kitchen window opening. “Hey, you two!” Jessie yells – when Rhett turns around, she has her head stuck out the window. “Quit your gossiping and come help us out!”

“Coming!” Rhett drains the dregs of his whisky and hauls himself to his feet, offering a hand to pull Shepherd up. “Come on then, let’s go help your mother.” He keeps his hand splayed between Shepherd’s shoulder blades, gently steering him in the right direction.

“Hey, Dad?” Shepherd stops, right before they cross the kitchen threshold. Rhett grunts in affirmation. “I’m gonna start hugging my friends. If they wanna. Not just because it’s a punk thing.” He grins up at Rhett – a rare, open smile, not the normal boyish smirk that indicates he’s about to cause trouble – and heads to take his place in the dishwashing order.

_Huh_ , Rhett thinks, putting his empty whisky tumbler down. _When did you get so old?_

***

"So Shep and I have decided that hugging is a punk thing, and we're going to do it more often." It's one of those moments between Morning and More, where the camera's still rolling but it's not going to make it into the episode, just maybe social media if it's entertaining. There is not a lot of Rhett's life that isn't captured on camera anymore. "So consider yourself warned."

"I'm always down to snuggle with you, brother, no warning necessary." Link waggles his eyebrows. "How did this come up, anyway?"

"We were talking 'bout stuff. Society, toxic masculinity, defying expectations. Usual weekend stuff, y'know?"

"I spent my weekend playing with slime, so not really." His friend flashes him another grin, before standing up and stretching out. Rhett hears his shoulders click. "Hey, Stevie, can we take five? I need some air."

Stevie waves him off without looking, discussing something about the shooting schedule with Chase.

Rhett looks directly into the camera. "So take that as a motto. Be more punk, do more hugs."

***

It's thundering. And all Rhett can think about is how frightened Link used to be of storms. How, the first time he'd stayed at Rhett's during one, he'd got so scared that Rhett had got scared and had to wake his parents. His dad had sat with them that night, until they'd fallen asleep, and maybe even a bit after that.

Huh. He hadn't thought about that in years. Funny how all of this works.

It's 1 a.m. and he can't sleep. He needs to be up in five hours. He's been sitting in the living room for nearly two; he'd promised Jessie he'd be along in a minute, but said minute had never come. The boys have been asleep for hours. Even Barbara's disappeared, probably to take advantage of his empty pillow as her nap space.

Link says he's not scared of storms anymore, but Rhett's not sure if that's true.

Not that it matters, because he's probably asleep like all normal people are.

Rhelt picks at a loose thread in his sweats. He's spent the last few hours doing anything _but_ winding down, trying to avoid the fact that his conversation with his dad seems to have sparked something in his mind, opened the door that Rhett had always been told should stay locked. So now his thoughts are spinning – _So what if I like guys? Does it matter? Does Jess even need to know? It's not as if I'm planning on leaving her, or acting on it. She doesn't know about every woman I've ever seen._

And then, underneath it all, that little voice that never left North Carolina: _what if it makes her not want me anymore?_

Rhett groans and presses the heels of his hands to his stinging eyes. It's too late to be thinking about this shit.

"Babe?" Jessie's voice – springing out of nowhere like he's summoned her with his chaotic thoughts – makes him jump. "Are you alright?"

He debates lying. It would be easier – a _lot_ easier. But something about lying to Jessie makes his stomach twist in almost-painful knots ( _something_ , as if lying to your wife should be anything but awful). And maybe he doesn't want to lie, not anymore. And it's late, and he's tired, and Jessie is the best person he knows. The circumstances aren't great, but they're not _awful_.

"Rhett?" She settles down next to him.

"I'm …" ok? Not ok? He doesn't know how to finish that sentence. Instead, he reaches for her hand. She had it between both of hers. Keeping him safe. "I love you," he says instead. "So much."

She looks him steadily in the eye and waits.

And he debates squirrelling out of it, but she won't let him now.

"I've been …" _re-evaluating_ – no, that sounds like break up talk. "My dad …" _told me he'd known for years, but that's not the point_. "I'm …"

Oh gosh, this is hard.

"Ok, let's get 'round this," Jessie says, taking pity on him. "I'll ask a question, you nod or shake for it. Then, when you're ready, just go for it. Yeah?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Ok." She squeezes his hand. "Is anyone hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Is anyone dead or dying? Or in prison?"

Shake.

"Are – are you leaving me?"

He shakes his head vigorously, feeling his curls bounce around his ears at speed.

And then Jessie breathes out a sigh of relief. "Those are the worst things I can think of, and none of them have happened. So don't be scared, darling."

His leg is bouncing, up and down repeatedly, and he stares at it.

"Is it something about you?"

Nod.

"Is it something you think I'll judge you for?"

"It's late." Rhett is halfway through standing up when he realises he's spoken. "We should go to –"

"Rhett." Jessie grips tighter to his hand; if he follows through with standing he'll be pulling her, and that will hurt one of them. Probably him, to be honest; his back's much better, but not that great. "I'm not going to bed until you tell me. Then we'll go together, ok?"

"I've changed my mind, you don't – it doesn't –" He tries to pull away, but Jessie's got his hand in a firm grip.

"Rhett, _please_."

He fixes his eyes at his bookshelf in the distance and plants his feet ready to escape. "I think I like men, ok?" He's not sure why he's angry, all of a sudden – Jessie's done nothing to deserve that. But he is, and that's that. 

"Ok," Jessie says simply. "And you thought I would judge you for that?"

He shrugs, freeing his hand from hers.

And then he starts bawling like a baby, hiding his face in his hands to muffle the awful gasping noises he's making.

"Oh _darling_ "

He's too focused on crying to hear Jessie moving until she's there, a warm weight at his side. And his knees buckle, sending him crashing to the floor and pressing his face into her stomach as he sobs.

"Darling, darling," she whispers, a hand in his hair. "We're not in North Carolina anymore. It's ok, it's ok, you're home." Because she has always known him better than he knows himself.

He doesn't know how long he kneels there, or how long she cradles his head and makes soothing noises. Long enough for his back to start to hurt and the beginnings of a headache kick in. Jessie's hands comb through his hair, gently snagging on knots in his curls.

"C'mon baby, let's go to bed."

Rhett follows her like a lost child, clinging to her hand as if it's the only thing keeping him up. In the dark bedroom, the only thing he can see is Barbara, curled up in Jessie's space, one eye cracked open to imperiously survey him.

"Lift your feet." Jessie carefully tugs down his sweats, one thumb looped in the waistband of his boxers to keep them up. Then she eases his pants off his feet, one leg at a time. "Sit down. Arms up." He does as he's told, letting her pull his t-shirt off and tuck him into bed. Barbara licks his nose as Jessie slides in beside her.

"Jess …" he says, voice hoarse.

"We'll talk in the morning, Rhett. Just sleep now, ok?"

As he drops off, he feels her reach for his hand again and tangle their fingers together.

***

_Not coming in today; didn't sleep and feel awful. R._

He's barely finished typing when his phone rings, a particularly stupid picture of Link from their college days filling the screen.

"You alright, brother?" Link asks through a mouthful of (presumably) cereal.

"Yeah, just … need a break. I guess." Rhett pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that he swears hasn't gone away since last night. "I should be fine tomorrow."

"Anything you need from me?" Link swallows his mouthful of cereal.

"Oh gosh, only for you to stop chewing so close to your phone."

"Hey!" But Link is laughing. "Alright. I'll leave you be. Just call me you need, yeah? Promise?

"Sure. Promise." Rhett thinks about crossing his fingers but doesn't. Which feels like an improvement on his normal reaction to this stuff. He'll have to tell his therapist.

After he's worked through all the shit from the last few months, of course. Could be a long wait.

There's a gentle warning knook at the door, then Jessie pushes it open, her other hand precariously holding two mugs. "Morning sleepy head. I brought you tea."

"I love you," Rhett says by way of thanks, sitting up in bed and reaching for his mug.

"I've sent the boys off to school and I've got no clients until later. I was thinking we could … talk?" She's waiting by the bed, asking for permission. 

"Um." Rhett blinks furiously, in the hope it'll wake him up a bit. It doesn't really. "Yeah, sure."

She settles herself cross-legged on the bed – it's weirdly reminiscent of Link, but it's not as if Link _invented_ sitting cross-legged on everything – and holds her mug of coffee in two hands. "So. You're bisexual."

"How are you so _calm_ about this?" he asks, staring at the comforter instead of his wife.

"Well." Jessie pauses. He wonders if she's wrinkling her nose, like she always does when she's thinking. "Does it mean you don't love me? Or that you're leaving us?"

Rhett shakes his head.

"Then how is it any different to your ridiculous crush on Rihanna?"

He finally looks up, biting back what might be a smile. Jessie's eyes are clear, honest and open, like they have been every day of his life with her. "S'not that ridiculous."

"Little bit. Drink your tea."

Rhett edges closer to her, suddenly aware that she's in her yoga gear, her hair washed and tied back, while he's a 42-year-old man in boxers that probably have a hole in them. But she slips an arm around his waist and leans her head on his shoulder.

He drinks his tea.

Then he gets up, stretches, showers, strips the bed and puts the sheets in to wash. Normal, everyday things (or every other week in terms of the sheets) but they feel different now. _He_ feels different now. He's spent his whole life hunching his shoulders trying to look smaller, curling inwards to keep everything a secret and _he doesn't have to do that._

He wrote a damn book on challenging authority and yet somehow didn't apply the rules to himself. He's an idiot.

Rhett doesn't check his phone until it's nearly lunch, making do instead with the housework on Jessie's list and an extra-long walk for Barbara (who doesn't care one bit about her human's genital preferences, unless it interferes with eating).

When he does, he's unsurprised to see a screed of messages from Link.

_Hey buddyroll let me know if you need anything._

Then a picture of his empty desk with a sad face drawn on it (the photo, not his desk). 

Then a picture of Link and Stevie goofing off.

Then a picture of Link's bare feet propped up on Rhett's desk, toes nudging his mouse.

_Hey asshole, get your feet off my desk. Don't know where they've been._

_Well, wouldn't you like to know?_

_Wail. That came out wrong._

"Idiot," Rhett mutters fondly, rolling his eyes.

He's going to make beans for lunch.

***

"You see the storm the other night? Was that why you didn't sleep?" Link says by way of greeting, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling up. "Hi, by the way."

"Yes, no, hi." Rhett had debated whether or not to just call in today – it's Friday, so he could have just made it a long weekend. But he's never really been one for skipping (good old Protestant work ethic) and besides, he _likes_ his job.

Without taking his eyes off the road, he reaches across to slap Link's foot where it's resting against the centre console.

Link squawks. "How'd you catch me?"

"It leaves marks, dumbnut," he shoots him a quick knowing look before the light turns green.

"You love me anyway though."

"God only knows _why_."

Link just gives him one of his most beguiling smiles, and Rhett's heart skips a beat. He grins down at his steering wheel, ignoring Link's crow of " _Saw that!_ "

They drive a little further in almost-silence (well, what passes for silence in an enclosed space with Link: silence from Rhett that's sprinkled with fingertip-drumming, the _click-zoom_ of the window button going up and down, and the _sshhk_ of Link scratching his arms). Link breaks it –

"You alright? Only you don't normally have _that_ much trouble sleeping."

"I had some – stuff going on. But Jessie helped talk me through it. So I'm better, maybe?"

He doesn't know why (that's a lie), but he doesn't want to come out to Link quite yet. He's not said it to himself, after all. And he's not worried about Link's reaction, not one bit (aside from that little Buies Creek brain), but he wants to be sure. Opening up to Link means opening yet another door, and he's only just got through this one.

"Cool."

Rhett waits, because Link's not finished.

"You know you can talk to me, brother? I'm obviously not Jessie," _you'd be surprised how small the difference is getting,_ "but if she needs a break? I worry about you too."

"I know – and I will, trust me. Just … not quite yet." Rhett pulls the car into the parking lot and parks up. looking across at Link. "I promise, bo."

Link raises an eyebrow – _do you?_

Rhett raises his back – _I do_.

*** 

"Hi honey!" Jessie calls as Rhett closes the door, emerging from the kitchen doorway with Barbara dancing at her feet.

"It's Link." He just drops everything in his hands; keys, satchel, coat.

"What's Link?"

"I'm in love with Link." It comes out as a ragged gasp of a whisper. He's vaguely aware of Jessie looking around, yelling for Locke to keep an eye on their dinner, shepherding Rhett into their bedroom.

"Rhett, sit," she says firmly.

"I'm so sorry, I –"

"Rhett, what was the first thing we talked about when you started therapy?"

"N-not to apologise for revelations."

"Rule stands. Now sit."

Rhett sits. Jessie sits down next to him and takes both of his hands in hers. He stares at their wedding bands.

She's going to ask him to stop seeing Link. And he's going to have to, because he loves her, loves their boys, loves their life – but he's not even sure who he _is_ without Link, if he works as a person without Link to take off the edges of his abrasiveness, throw all his carefully curated caution to the wind. _What if I'm not such a good person?_ _What if knowing Link is what makes me ok to be around?_

Oh God, the Neals. What will he tell them?

"Rhett. Look at me."

He jumps at a touch to his cheek, stares in confusion at Jessie's fingers, which have come away wet.

"New rule," she says, taking his hand back again. "You don't worry about what I'm going to say or do until I've said or done it."

He nods shakily.

"Say it, Rhett."

"Agreed."

Jessie chews her lip and watches his face. He waits for his sentence.

"Have you only just realised?" she asks eventually.

Rhett blinks. "What?"

"Hun … I married a man who loves his best friend. I knew it _when I was marrying him._ "

He stares at her. "I – I don't understand."

Jessie squeezes his hands. "Christy warned me I wasn't to separate you. She said it wasn't fair – that if I wanted you, I had to take Link as well, that you meant that much to each other."

"You – you were surprised, though. When I told you."

"Mmm, not _that_ surprised. I didn't know you were _in love_ with Link, sure. Just that you boys were one soul in two bodies, however that showed itself."

"But I should stop seeing Link, if –" _I love him_.

"Are you _that_ desperate to get on Christy's bad side? Pretty sure she relies on you to get his energy out.”

He raises an eyebrow at the accidental innuendo, and Jessie blushes. "Not like that! Or, well, not _yet_ anyway."

It's his turn to blush. "Jess –"

"Look at me."

He does, staring straight into her warm brown eyes, seeing the laughter lines and nothing but love.

"Rhett, does loving Link mean you love me any less?"

He shakes his head.

"And if you could – be with him, would it mean you'd leave me and the boys?"

He shakes his head again, fervently.

"Right then. Well, I don't have a problem with it. The opposite. If it takes two of us to show you just how much you're loved, then bring it on." And Jessie breathes out a sigh of – relief?

"You aren't ok with this," he accuses her.

"I was a bit worried that I might lose to Link, sure." She tucks her hair behind her ear with their still-interlocked hands. "But not worried enough to not ask. It's _ok_ , Rhett. I promise you."

He thinks, unbidden, to _I promise, bo_ , just this morning. And of the similarities between Link Jessie he's been noticing for half his life: their smiles, their affection, the way they make everyone around them want to be a better person. _Guess I have a type._

Rhett breathes out slowly, and Jessie's smile grows. "It feels like that's the first time I've ever seen you breathe," she says.

"It feels like the first time I _have_."

She squeezes his hands one final time and brings them twice to her lips. "C'mon, baby. Before Locke burns the house down." She lets go and heads to the door he didn't realise she'd shut.

"Jess?" He watches her hand still on the door handle.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm the luckiest man alive." _I love you_ , he doesn't say, she knows, and it's there

Jessie winks, "Don't you forget it."

***

Link has a cold sore.

_The herpes are back_ , Rhett texts Jessie.

_Poor baby :( kiss it better_.

_Only kidding. Don't you be bringing herpes into my house!!_

When Rhett had planned his whole 'minor mental breakdown and midlife sexuality crisis', he'd completely forgotten the vlog issue.

It had been Ellie's idea. "You could do a cute vlog!" she'd suggested when brainstorming. "Recreate your youth! Have a sleepover!"

The sheer amount of evil joy in Stevie's laugh meant that 'you could' turned into 'you are' without any negotiation. And they don’t even have to kick anyone out, because they can use the creative house.

So here they are, sleeping bags and an airbed (Rhett's going to take the actual mattress from the nap room, because young him didn't have to deal with a crumbling spine) – and a be-herpesed Link.

"Well," Rhett says into his camera. "I brought a ball so we can play testakill later."

"Yeah? Well I've got the strawberry wine!"

Rhett nearly drops his camera. "Oh gosh, _really_?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Link tries (and fails) to look mysterious. "Yeah, but I bought it. Had to go to this crazy hipster wine place that was _so_ expensive, you have no idea."

"You didn't have to –"

"Company card, right?" He winks, looking delighted, and Rhett suddenly wanted to kiss him then and there, herpes and communication and cameras be damned.

They order fried chicken and go pick it up on their bikes. It goes weird with strawberry wine (which tastes less like kool-aid than Rhett expected, but he's still not sure he'd drink it for its own sake) but weird is good. Weird is _them_ , always has been.

"Ok, so," Link says into Rhett's camera, finishing the washing up (Rhett has spent the entire time ribbing on him for 'not being true to life, man!'). "This is _technically_ not time-period-accurate, but to get into the mood of being a kid …"

The camera resting on the kitchen island, Rhett does a drumroll with his hands as Link thoroughly dries his hands, then leaves the room. Rhett hurriedly grabs the camera and follows.

Link is on the floor of what they've classed as their sleeping room, rummaging in his duffel. He looks up to shoot Rhett/the camera a smile before continuing his search.

"Y'know," Rhett settles down on the couch. "You can really see your greys from this angle."

"Screw you, man!" It comes out muffled, because Link doesn't even bother to look up. A moment later he sits up, victoriously brandishing a small fuzzy thing. "Now, I woulda never brought this to Rhett's in case he made fun of me –"

"– I probably would've –"

"– But this is Hoot. My dad got him for me when I was – well, he was still living with my mom, so. I slept with him almost every night until I was, like … fourteen?"

Rhett zooms his camera in on Hoot the small fuzzy thing (turns out it's an owl) so the Beasts can see. "How have I _never_ heard about this?"

"Cause I'm good at hiding secrets! I'd stick him between my bed and the wall like _this_ –" Link stuffs Hoot in between the couch cushions, leaning out of the way so Rhett can point his camera at it. "And then I'd stick my hand there too, and –" he demonstrates, rubbing the wing behind his forefinger and thumb. Rhett zooms in on it. The wing has been rubbed almost entirely bare.

"You seriously hid this for nearly _ten years_? I'm impressed."

"I was helping Lando tidy his room and found Hoot. Figured I'd bring him along, reminisce about the good old days …" Link shrugs, smiling lop-sidedly.

Rhett switches his camera off. "Seriously, fourteen?"

"Probably would have been sooner, but the whole Jimmy thing sorta knocked me for six. You remember," Link shrugs. "Too weird for a vlog?"

"No! No. It's perfect. Fine. What 'the fans' want." He drawls his accent a bit on 'the fans', sending them both up. 

Link punches his arm. "C'mon then, man. We've got shit to do!"

***

It's verging on 11 p.m. – late for the old men they've become – when they bed down in the living room, after spending half an hour and copious dad noises getting Link's airbed to stay inflated.

Rhett so rarely sleeps in pyjamas these days that it feels weird to be now. He's hyper-aware of each of his individual leg hairs touching the material of the trousers he stole from costuming. He snuggles further into his unzipped sleeping bag and closes his eyes.

"My balls still hurt." Link's voice breaks through the quiet.

"Keep your balls to yourself, man," Rhett attempts to deadpan, but he's pretty sure that the camera can pick up him trying to contain his laughter.

"You did this to me! I'm verbally –"

"Stop verbally processing your balls and go to sleep!"

There's a beat, then – 

"Well, I bet I can guess what the teaser's gonna be."

Rhett rolls over and squints into the darkness, trying to locate exactly where Link is. The cameras are positioned either end of the living room, one near their heads, the other their feet.

Link's still got his glasses on; clearly he isn’t planning on sleeping just yet. They've closed the curtains, but there's a crack of light still coming between them due to an awkwardly placed street light.

The light catches Link's eyes and makes them glitter.

Rhett wonders if that will come across on camera.

"You ok there, brother? You're staring." Link laughs, but there's a nervous edge to it. He sits up and hugs his knees – which is a completely normal Link thing, the man is incapable of sitting like a normal person, but in a ratty t-shirt with a sleeping bag rucked up around his waist it makes him look vulnerable.

Rhett leans over to the camera nearest his head and switches it off, which makes Link's eyes go almost comically round. Then Link rolls across to do the same to the camera by his feet.

And they sit there. Silently. In the dark.

"Is this where you're gonna tell me what's been bugging you?" Rhett can _hear_ the effort in Link's voice to keep it steady.

"Yeah, I guess." He plunges ahead, before Link can give himself space to imagine the worst. "I … I'm bisexual. I like – guys. As well. And I guess I've _known_ for a while, but I didn't _really_ –"

"Gosh, brother, you were making me feel like it was gonna be something _bad._ Like you wanted to cancel the show or you were a murderer or something," Link interrupts, because he's Link. "You had me worried."

"I'm not in the habit of re-evaluating my life constantly, so sorry I had to do some thinking on it," Rhett says waspishly (and a little untruthfully, considering what had gotten him into this mess in the first place). "I'm –"

Link holds up his hands in surrender or recognition, he can't tell. "No, yeah. Sorry. Redo?"

" _What_?"

"Can we just –" Link does a fairly decent imitation of a rewinding noise. "Do it again – I'll be better."

_You're an idiot_ , Rhett doesn't say, but he's going to do it, because he lets Link get away with far too much. "Hey, Link? I'm – I'm bisexual. I like guys, in a more-than-friends way.

Link nods solemnly, over-egging the bit, but his eyes are warm. "Thanks for telling me. That must have been tough to figure out. Can I give you a hug?"

Rhett raises an eyebrow. "You gonna get weird on me, brother? I'm still _me_ , even if I –"

"No! Not like that – it would be hypocritical anyway – but I know you don't always like touching if you're feeling shit, and I didn't want to just presume you were … anyway. Hug?" He holds at his arms, grinning sheepishly.

"Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you," Rhett mutters, but he's already scooting across the mattress to meet Link halfway. It's completely normal, they do this, but _something_ about it feels a little different, a little more tender. Link balls his fists in Rhett's pyjama top. He's being weirdly gentle about it, holding Rhelt like he's something precious, and Rhett can't decide if – "Hey. Wait. _Hypocritical_?"

Link emerges from the hug looking somewhat sheepish (again). "Sorry brother. Didn't mean to steal your thunder."

"How? I – dammit Neal, just how many secrets have you snuck by me?"

Link shrugs.

Rhett is still reeling. Here they are, two 40-somethings, sat on a mattress in the dark, realising that they still don't know everything about each other. 

"In my defence, you never asked."

"I guess," Rhett shrugs, the movement bringing him into contact with Link's arms around his knees. "Hey, you think we'd have hooked up if we knew when we were back in high school?" (It's more a rhetorical question than anything else; if Rhett had known this in high school he would have been a neurotic mess convinced he was going to hell).

Link causes an eyebrow. "If? Oh, I knew in high school, brother."

Rhett winces.

"Yeah. But it was fine. _I'm_ fine. Feels weird telling someone who ain't Christy, though." Link brings his thumb up to his mouth to chew it, brushing against the painful-looking sore in the corner of his lip.

Rhett slaps his hand down. "You'll make it worse." Internally he notes it, though – clearly it wasn't _all_ fine. But that's enough for one night. "So you mean buzzcuts and no chins didn't do it for you? I'm hurt, man."

"Yeah, there were definitely better-looking guys than you at school. Don't worry though! You grew into – ow!" Rhett thwacks the back of his head and Link descends into giggles. _Giggles_. Link would kill him if he could hear his thoughts. 

"So," Link grins, a wicked edge to it. "Which version of _me_ was the most attractive? Obviously not high school, otherwise I would have triggered your big gay awakening years ago."

He's just fishing for compliments, because he's Link and he's seen an opportunity to grow his ego.

But Rhett's been staring at this last locked door for a while now, and he's tired of it. He knows Link, knows he's a good guy, knows that a confession could make things awkward, but not ruin his friendship for good. Because nothing can, not anymore.

"Now," he says. "The up-to-date version." _Bed-head, pyjamas and all._

In the dark, he gets to see Link's face react; the furrowing of his brow, the widening of his eyes, the way he bites his lip in almost slow motion.

"R-really?"

"I'm tired of secrets, man."

The sudden quiet is terrifying. He sees Link shrink away, and the bottom drops out of Rhett's world. _How could I have guessed this so wrong? What do I –_

Something warm and heavy closes with his chest and jaw. "You jerk!" For one dizzying second, Rhett thinks he's been punched, but then – 

Link's _hugging_ him. The thing colliding with Rhett's jaw was Link's _head_.

"You jerk" Link says again, mostly into Rhett's neck/jaw/beard region. "You can't just _tell_ me these things when _I can't kiss you_." Rhett wriggles out of the octopus grasp and holds his friend at arm's length to look at his face.

Link tilts his head back, looking smug and sleepy. "That's a real stupid look on your face, y'know?

"Oh?" he says, still keeping Link at arm's length. His eyes dart down to Link's lips, and _God_ he's not wanted to kiss someone so much in a long, long time.

"Yeah, sort of … Link unfocuses his eyes and lets his jaw drop a bit, then furrows his brows for good measure.

"I do not –" Rhett begins, but Link is still talking.

" _You_ started this, you went first – or did I, uh, read it wrong?"

"Definitely not," he cuts in before Link can convince himself out of – well, this. "You read it right. I promise."

The light from the crack in the curtain catches Link's glasses, and it's like he's radiating his own light. "Cool," Link says.

***

They don't talk much beyond that, because it's late and they're supposed to be working, but the excitement is bubbling up in Rhett's chest. _He likes me_.

They've got so much to sort out before this even begins to be a Thing, but it's _there_ and it's _happening_!

It's about ten minutes after they've switched the cameras back on that Link starts rustling about on his airbed. So much tension has leached from Rhett's body that he's nearly asleep.

The rustling gets louder.

"Be _quiet_ , Neal," he mutters, not opening his eyes.

"I'm de-inflating! Or, uh, my airbed is …"

Rhett sits up with a sigh. " _Seriously_?"

Sure enough, Link is sitting on what is basically a velour-covered rug with his sleeping bag piled around his waist.

" _You_ secured it, so it's _your_ fault."

"Budge over." Link stands up, holding his sleeping bag up as well.

The cameras can probably only see his feet, but Rhett _cannot_ be bothered to fix that. " _What?_ "

"I'm not un-deflating my bed now, it's past midnight! You've got a double bed, shift up."

"I'm a double _man_!"

Instead of replying, Link flumps himself down onto Rhett, then rolls to the side to nestle against the wall and claim that half of the bed. "If _you_ want to reflate, then do it. I'm staying here."

"Why do I even – never mind," Rhett sighs and lies back down. "Don't spoon me now, Neal."

"Hey, the body wants what the body wants!"

It's barely five minutes of Link wriggling around on the mattress and fighting with his sleeping bag before Rhett feels a warm body pressing up against his, and a whisper.

"I let it down on purpose."

***

Their first kiss is two weeks later, against the counter at work where Rhett's making a cup of tea. And it's perfect.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> First published/finished fic in, three years, whoop ...
> 
> This was handwritten and then word-processed via OCR, so if you spot any howlers please let me know! Rhett's been renamed 'Phelt', 'Phat', 'Rhelt', 'Chatt' and 'That', while Link's been 'Kink' and 'Thing', so I'm not sure what that says for my handwriting. Beta'd by [Depseudemonas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depseudemonas), so all mistakes are theirs.
> 
> Title is from [Fair, by The Amazing Devil](https://theamazingdevil.bandcamp.com/track/fair).


End file.
